


ut secundum cor

by Vennat



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Memories, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Not Luther friendly, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vennat/pseuds/Vennat
Summary: The Hargreeves find a mind-melding machine from their past and decide to try it out again, this time with Vanya. Of course, something goes wrong.ORThe siblings all go through Klaus' memories and realize how shitty they've been.





	ut secundum cor

**Author's Note:**

> title: "a second heart" in latin, from:  
“The past beats inside me like a second heart.”  
― John Banville, The Sea 
> 
> (Credits to @MildeAmosaj for correcting my latin title!! Thanks so much bud) 
> 
> I'm equal parts proud of this and hate it. I dislike a lot of the scenes in this, but the idea I had for this originally (the siblings see klaus' memories) was fairly outlandish to execute believably. and honestly? I think I did a pretty good job of pulling it off decently believably, AND this is for sure my most edited work. very clean (I say, despite knowing there is at least one typo in here b/c I have that kinda luck).
> 
> either way, I shat this out in a week. I couldn't stop writing it. heed the tags please!!!!! and enjoy (:

Dust puffed out of the closet when Klaus opened the door, and he waved a hand in front of his face, coughing.

“Jeezus,” Said Ben, from over his shoulder. “It’s like it hasn’t even been  _ opened  _ in 20 years.” 

“Dad always did have more shit than he knew what to do with.” Klaus agreed, before pulling his shirt over his nose and diving into the closet. The dark, small space set him on edge, but he could still hear the rest of his siblings, scattered about the entryway behind him.

Everyone had agreed to help Vanya’s powers together- because they were all to blame for how she felt like an outcast as a child- which had started with the six of them attending Vanya’s concert. She practically glowed on the stage in her white suit, the music seeming to dance in the air around her. In a swell of happiness and brotherly pride, Ben had flickered into existence in the seat that Klaus had insisted be saved for their late brother. Patrons had jumped in shock, staring, while Klaus’ siblings stared in awe. Ben had flickered into invisibility again a few seconds later, but after the concert, Klaus had concentrated with all his might, and Ben had been corporeal enough to quickly pass out hugs to all 6 of his siblings.

Now, a few weeks later, Klaus could keep Ben solid a few hours a day. The decision to stay in the Academy together had been coupled with the decision to clean out and update the place, and finally rid themselves once and for all of their father’s oppressive presence. They had started with Reginald’s office, locking the doors to both and then locking away the keys. Hence, Klaus’ current position in a closet just off the main way. Inside, he finds boxes of old books, likely classic collectibles or something equally boring. He tosses them to the donate pile after assuring the boxes contain nothing personal. 

Klaus, of all people, knows how much they could be selling this stuff for. But, he also knows how  _ god damn much  _ money Reginald had left to each of them, along with the Academy and a handful of other land plots and properties. They didn’t need the money, or the things-- and  _ boy  _ would Reginald hate to know his stuffy rich people things were hanging out in a Goodwill.

The only thing left in the closet now, besides a rack of thick and luxurious furs, was something on the top shelf, gleaming dully in the low light. Klaus’ hands flared blue, and he looked at Ben over his shoulder.

“Gimme a boost?” he asked, flashing his best puppy eyes. Ben stepped forward, before dropping to one knee.

Klaus peered at him for a moment, judging his trajectory, before running two steps, pushing off Ben’s knee, and shooting about a foot higher into the air. He grabbed onto the edge of the shelf, glowing blue hands lighting up the item, hiding in the darkness. Klaus grabs it, sending up another puff of dust, and drops back down, landing into Ben’s waiting arms. He smiles winningly at his brother, who drops him the last foot or so to the ground in response. He frowns up at his brother, who smirks at him in response. Looking down at the object in his hands, Klaus gasps in recognition.

“Oh! Oh! Benny-boy, look at this!” He crosses his legs under himself, dusting off his prize.

“Wow,” Said Ben, “I totally forgot about that thing.” Klaus nodded in agreement, before popping to his feet.

“Let’s go show the others!”

Ben followed after as Klaus bounced down the hallway to where the rest of their siblings were working. Diego was halfway in a closet, tossing items over his shoulder to Vanya. Five was on top of Luther’s broad shoulders, pulling down the thick, oppressive drapes. Allison was collecting items off of tables and walls, dropping them into piles or boxes, seemingly based on size. Klaus clicked his heels together- which made no noise, as his feet were bare- and called out loudly to his siblings.

“ Mes frères et soeurs! I have found  _ treasure!”  _

There is a tell-tale  _ thwip _ ing noise, and Five tumbles forward off of Luther’s shoulders, reappearing beside Klaus and snatching the machine from his hands, examining it, and flipping it this way and that.

“Oh!” Allison said as she stepped closer. “That was the machine we used for “Harmony Training”, right?” 

Luther, who had paced his way over to them in 3 large strides, nodded in agreement.

“We used that before we ever went out on any missions when were 8 or so. Dad always said that it would help us attune to one another.”

Diego, dusting off his black pants as he came closer, nodded too.

“That was probably the only training we ever did that I didn’t actually mind,” he said. “Just sit in silence with the gear on until dad decided we were all  _ in sync.”  _

Vanya finally made her way over.

“I was always so jealous of that.” She said, her eyes sad. “Even if I wanted to be part of the team, I knew how much physical and individual training could suck. But you guys always looked so  _ happy  _ after this, and it was just another reminder I’d never be allowed to be on the team like you guys.”

As Vanya sighed, looking longingly at the device still in Five’s hand, the rest of her siblings met each other’s eyes, and an understanding passed through them.

“Why don’t we give it a shot?” Allison said, smiling when Vanya looked up at her in surprise. “It never took too long, and we could all use a break anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Vanya asked, looking hesitant. Diego put his arm around her shoulders and began to lead her to the living room.

“Of course we are, V.”

Vanya smiled brilliantly at him, and the rest of them followed after the pair into the main living room. Five, impatient as ever, popped ahead of them, settling himself onto the ground and placing the machine in front of him. He began untangling the wires, setting each headset aside as it came free from the bundle. As the rest of his siblings arrived, they formed a loose circle around the machine, and Allison, to his left, began to pass everyone a headset. As everyone began to put theirs on, Klaus shot a look between the abandoned headset and his ghostly brother. Ben, from where he was hovering between Five and Vanya, watching Five fiddles with the machine’s controls, shrugged. 

“I wouldn’t mind being corporeal if just so I could read while you all are busy, but only if you don’t think it’ll be too much strain.”

Klaus shrugged at him, before putting on his own headset-- he was the last to do so, and when Five saw Klaus had put his on, he hit the button to boot up the machine.

Except, several other things happened at the same time.

Klaus’ hands glowed a steady blue, Ben seems to pop into existence between two of his siblings. FIve didn’t do much more than curse lightly, but Vanya jumped, a slight ripple pulsing out from her chest. It had only been a few weeks since her discovery of her powers, after all, and she was still working on control.

Normally, a slight pulse like this wouldn’t have done much more than rattle some glasses,  _ maybe  _ trip someone. But Vanya, so close to Five’s side, was also only about a foot from the machine. The pulse hit it, and the machine sparked, rattling.

That was the last thing any of them saw before it went dark.

_______________________________ 

  
  


The first thing Klaus sees when he opens his eyes are his siblings.

And then-- also, his siblings. And himself. Except they’re all… like 4 years old? 5? Hell if Klaus knew anything about children.

Swiveling his head from side to side, Klaus looked at his siblings- the (mostly) adult ones- and figured, based on the bewildered expressions on their faces, they didn’t know what the hell was going on either. 

“What…” Klaus said, slowly. “The fuck.”

“It must’ve been the machine,” Five said, and he nodded to himself as if coming to a conclusion. “It’s at least 25 years old now, and when Vanya’s powers hit it, something probably went wrong. Maybe we’re… stuck in a simulation? Or something.”

Vanya looked nervous and pale like she was gonna start apologizing, so Klaus winked at her, before starting to talk so that she couldn’t.

“Like the matrix? Fuck yeah.” 

Diego, Luther, Allison, and Five all rolled their eyes or groaned at him, and he shot a grin to Vanya, who smiled back timidly in response. Before anyone else could say anything else, noise from the younger versions of themselves drew their attention.

“T-thanks M-mom.” Diego stuttered, beaming at their Mother. It was then that Klaus realized they were in the kitchen, Grace hovering over the stove, pushing eggs around in a pan. The other children chorused their thanks, and Grace beamed at them.

“Of course, children. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all!” 

The children dug into their breakfasts, chattering quietly to one another. Klaus watched in confusion for a few moments at the domestic scene, wondering what the hell was going on before a noise interrupted his thoughts.

“ _ Help me!”  _ Sobbed a woman in the corner. Her neck was at an odd angle, and Klaus grimaced at the sight of her. He couldn’t even escape ghosts inside a simulation? Really?

“What--” Started Diego, before being interrupted by a clatter from the scene in the kitchen.

Little-Klaus had stood so fast that his chair toppled behind him. He was staring straight at the woman in the corner, hands shaking. He looked like he wanted to cry.

“Four?” asked Little-Luther, looking at Little-Klaus in concern. A sob slipped past Little-Klaus’ lips, and he tried to back up, before stumbling over the chair that had fallen over behind him. The crooked-necked woman seemed to realize he could see her, and she began to trudge towards him. Little-Klaus gasp-screamed in horror, scrambling backward.

“Four? What’s wrong, sweetie?” Grace was asking, and now-Klaus could hear his siblings gasping or murmuring beside him, but it all seemed distant. 

Klaus knew what this was. This was the first ghost that he had ever seen. This was his  _ memory. _

Oh, god.

In the kitchen, Little-Klaus was shaking, explaining in stumbling, gasped words about the figure in the corner, whose hands were now swiping at him, reaching desperately. Her hands passed right through Little-Klaus, but he could still remember the cold burst that had gone through him each time it happened. Grace pursed her lips.

“I better go get your father.” She said, standing. She ushered off, and once she was out of the way, Little-Diego and Little-Ben swooped in, holding his hands. They kept shooting glances over to where he was looking, but it was obvious that they couldn’t see what he saw. 

Klaus could feel his siblings staring at him, staring between him, Little-him, and the ghost. He ignored them staring resolutely at his younger self.

Reginald came bustling through the door, Pogo only a pace behind him.

“What is the meaning of this racket, Number Four?”

“The woman,” Little-Klaus said, pointing to the apparition who had shuffled back into the corner, wailing. “Her neck. It’s-- it’s funny. And she won’t stop crying. She wants me to help her.”

Reginald’s face pinched, and he kneeled next to Little-Klaus, sending Little-Diego and Little-Ben scattering away from their father. He seized Little-Klaus by the shoulders.

“Number Four,” He said gravely, “what does she look like.”

Klaus hesitated a moment, looking at his father, before his eyes flickered over to the corner, lingering for only a few seconds before he looked back at Reginald.

“Blonde. Her hair is up. She has a-- a spoon, a wooden spoon, in her hand. She’s wearing a skirt. Heels.”

Reginald, face pale, looked at him for a long, long moment, before getting to his feet and dusting off the knees of his pants.

“It does not do to make things up for attention, Number Four. You will have to try harder than that to garner my favor. If you see someone…  _ else,  _ I may be more inclined to believe you, next time.”

With that, Reginald leaves the room, and both versions of Klaus stared after him in shock, but for entirely different reasons.

“He knew.” Muttered Klaus, and his siblings all looked at him. “He knew this whole goddamn time.”

“Knew?” asked Five. Klaus blinked, before looking at him. 

“They were real. For the longest time, he made me feel like I was crazy for seeing things no one else could. But did you hear what he said? “Next time.” Fucking  _ next time.”  _ Klaus clenched his eyes shut, breathing a little too hard. “He knew there’d be the next time.”

“Was that the first time you ever saw a ghost?” Asked Allison. Klaus shrugged.

“Probably. That’s the earliest one I could remember.” He paused, before remembering what he had realized earlier. “I know my memories are a little… drug-addled, but I think that’s how I remember that scene playing out. I think… we might be  _ in  _ my memories.”

Klaus looked out at the past as he said it, taking in the sight of Grace encouraging him to eat, trying to draw his attention from where his eyes were stuck on the corner of the room.

“...You may be right,” Five agreed, but before he could elaborate on, a wail sounded out. Klaus wasn’t sure when the scene had changed, but the sight before him took his breath away.

No.  _ no.  _ Worse still than being here, was having to  _ watch  _ himself be stuck in here.

“ _ Fuck.”  _ He breathed, and before he or any of his siblings could say anything, a beam of light split into the darkness.

Across the way, Reginald had just opened the door to the mausoleum, and in the moonlight, Klaus could see a younger version- still older than the ones in the last scene, but definitely predating his naming- of himself, Reginald holding him by the scruff of his neck.

“You must learn to control your fear, Number Four.” He said, pushing him into the crypt.

Klaus took a few stumbling steps in, propelled forward, before turning to Reginald.

“Fath--”

“I will return for you tomorrow. I hope I will see you have learned some control by then.”

The door to the mausoleum slammed shut, and though Klaus knew that the inside was absolute darkness, he still seemed to be able to see his younger self’s face, twisted in fear.

“Private training?” Five asked quietly, but before Klaus could respond, the wails began. Klaus almost fell to his knees at the force of the sound. Little him did.

The volume, he was used to, not that the same could be said for his siblings, who had their hands clenched tightly over their ears. It was less the level of noise, for Klaus, and more the specificity of it. These particular ghosts had been the same ones his whole life, and even once he had left the mausoleum for good, their voices haunted him every night.

The cacophony was deafening, only heightened as Little-Klaus screamed, guttural and aching, hands clamped around his own ears as he curled into a ball. The ghosts around them leered, and Klaus clamped his eyes shut too, trying futilely to ignore them.

“Please, leave me alone, please,  _ please,”  _ Little-him begged, sobbing. Klaus’ breath felt like a brick in his chest, choking him. 

The ghosts ignored him, growing louder as more came, drawn by the beacon that was Klaus. 

Little-Klaus screamed, raw and animal, before slamming his head into the ground repeatedly. Blood had begun to leak from his ears, and as he watched his past self- screaming, crying, begging, hurting- he almost wanted to join him. He always thought that the mausoleum might even be bearable if only there was someone there with him. But now, as his siblings watched his past self break, Klaus felt shame bubbling in his chest. Not even because he used to be so weak, but because he  _ still was.  _ The sight of the mausoleum made his knees want to buckle, made him ache for a needle in his elbow and a burn in his veins.

Little-Klaus banged his head against the marble floor of the cold, cold mausoleum one more time before falling still. His hands loosened their grip on the sides of his head, but the ghosts around them didn’t quieten.

As he looked at his younger self, deathly still, Klaus wrapped a shaking hand around his dog tags. Shame threatened to choke him. 

The door to the mausoleum opened, sunlight streaming in. Behind Reginald, Pogo stood upright in a way they hadn’t seen in years.

“Number Four.” He called out imperiously. Breathe rattled into his tiny lungs again, and his eyes fluttered open. 

The ghosts around him had quieted to a dull roar, rather than the overwhelming bellow they had been the whole night. He sat up, slowly. 

“Have you conquered your fears?” Reginald asked, indifferent to the long scratches on Klaus’ faces and arms; the dried blood in his hair, in his ears, and around his nose; the wild look his young, sad eyes.

“Yes, Father,” Klaus said, voice shaking.

“No.” Said Reginald, after a long moment of staring at Klaus. “I don’t think that you have.”

The door to the mausoleum closed with a sickening sense of finality, leaving Little-Klaus in the darkness again. He began to cry, ever so softly, as the whispers around them once again built into blood-curdling screams.

The scene changed.

Klaus tried to gather his breath, his siblings cautiously lowering their arms.

“Klaus?” Vanya asked hesitantly, stepping closer. Klaus flinched away when she set her hand on his arm, and she immediately pulled away.

“Sorry,” he said and put on a smile felt like chewing glass. “Ghosts aren’t the prettiest, are they.”

“That really happened?” Luther asked, seemingly in disbelief. “These are really your memories?”

Klaus wished he could tell him no, but was cut off, once again, by a noise from the scene before them. This one managed to turn all their blood cold, not just his. 

It was the noise of Father’s cane whistling through the air. They must’ve missed the start of the memory because usually, Reginald would list his sins before he started swinging.

The scene before them had Klaus, maybe 8 years old, bent over Reginald’s desk. The cane sailed through the air, and Klaus knew that even through his schoolboy trousers it would leave a welt.

“Do you know why I’m doing this, Number Four?” And there, of course, was the classic  _ remind my child of all the things he has wrong with him that I just told him a minute ago.  _ The cane whistled through the air before he could answer, and Little-Him grunted at the impact.

“Yes, sir.   
  


_ Whack! _

“Because I’m a disappointment, sir.”

It was said monotonously as if this had happened before. (It had.)

_ Whack! _

“Correct, Number Four.”

One more solid hit and a tear streaked down Little-Klaus’ face, silent. 

“Go.” Said Reginald, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe at his cane as if Klaus had soiled it. The bastard probably thought he had.

Little-Klaus scurried from the room, limping slightly. The door to Father’s room closed with a resounding thud behind him, and Little-Klaus hurried away as fast as he could. His vision was already blurring with tears, and he stumbled his way forward, falling upon his door with a fervor. He pushed it open, intending to stumble straight to his bed, hide under his covers, and  _ sob,  _ when he caught sight of the room before him.

Shit. His vision blurred as it was, Klaus had gone down one door too far, stumbling into Five’s room instead of his own.

“Four?” Said Little-Five, looking up from his book. Klaus tried to back out of the still-open door, but Five stood from his bed. “Are you ok Four? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?”

Little-Klaus just sniffled, swiping at the tears streaming down his face.

“Ok,” said Little-Five, taking a tentative step closer. “Do you want to sit with me? I can read to you if you’d like.”

Little-Klaus hesitated, then nodded, and Five sat back down, patting the open space next to him. Klaus sat next to him without thinking and hissed in pain when his sore thighs and butt made contact with the bed. Five looked at him in understanding.

“Lay on your stomach, I don’t mind,” Little-Five said, being unusually accommodating. Klaus did as he said, and after a moment, Five began to read aloud.

The scene abruptly changed. Klaus wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. They could spend god only knows how long in the mausoleum, exposing Klaus' darkest secrets, but the moment things got even a little bit gushy, they moved on? That was some bullshit if Klaus had ever heard it.

The next few scenes cycled through in quick succession and Klaus found that though the sight of them caused a dull ache in his chest, it didn’t really do much more than making him cringe to watch the scenes unfold. They were far too familiar to still hurt him. Klaus cringed only at his own stupidity and desperate need for attention.

One after another, they watched as Luther, Allison, Diego, Five, and Vanya rebuked Klaus, berating him for his uselessness in battle, lack of useful powers, lack of effort, lack of seriousness-- he was just  _ lacking. _

Klaus only wished he could tell his past self not to bother because even to this day, he was never enough for anyone. It had stopped bothering him along time ago, he told himself. (Klaus always was a good liar.)

The next scene, however, seemed to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Klaus knew what was about to happen before anything else could happen. 

It was their birthday. Their first one without Five.

Mom had given them names.

Klaus was standing in Five’s room. He could still remember the cold of the floor against his bare feet. He stepped forward, running his hands along the desk, up and over the stacks of books, scattered papers, and pencils.

Finally, he settled his fingers on Five’s mask.

He blew out a breath, settling into a cross-legged position on the floor. He placed the mask and the ouija board planchette on the floor in front of him, more for his own sake than any real need for them.

He closed his eyes, working slowly to tune out the various ghosts screaming around the house. 

He clenched his fists, and Klaus noticed for the first time that Little-Klaus’ veins had glowed ever so slightly blue. 

“Five,” Little-Klaus whispered. Next to him, his brother jumped, before realizing what was happening.

“Did… were you trying to summon me?”

Klaus shrugged. Little-Klaus continued on.

“ _ Five,”  _ he said again, and something about his voice was… otherworldly. It sent a chill down Klaus’ spine.

“Five.” He said again in his own voice, broken and defeated. He bent over double, and a sob broke past his lips. “Five, please. Dad says you’re dead. I need to see you, Five, please.”

Little-Klaus waited for a long moment but was met with only silence. He let out a slightly hysterical giggle, tinged with relief. He wiped his eyes.

“Five, you little bastard, wherever you are, I hope it’s better than here. You  _ better _ be alive, because if your ghostly ass is ignoring me, I’ll kill you, so that I’m the only one you can talk to for the rest of eternity.”

Klaus stood, and after a moment of contemplation, pocketed the domino mask, leaving the planchette where he had taken the mask off the desk. He stepped from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Alive.” He said to himself softly, before heading down to Ben’s room.

Present-Klaus almost got knocked over by the force of Five’s bulldozing hug. He immediately wrapped his arms around his younger brother in return. Five peeked up at him.

“You… you looked for me. Even after the way I treated you.” 

Klaus shrugged. 

“You’re my brother, Five, of course I looked for you. Although, I was really hoping that I wouldn’t find you.” Five smiled up at him, and Klaus’ heart just about melted. Old-man consciousness or not, this was still his little brother, all of 13 years old and overwhelmed by his own feelings and how to express them. After all, he hadn’t grown up in the apocalypse, so much as learned how to survive.

Five, realizing the scene had changed, detached himself from Klaus, blushing furiously. Klaus smiled softly at him and turned to look at what memory they were in. 

Klaus’ blood ran cold at the sight of himself and Reginald at the top of the stairs. This was the one thing he had never told anybody-- not even Ben. He knew what was about to happen, knew everyone would have questions, and even more than the mausoleum, wished to be anywhere but here.

Reginald was holding onto his upper arm tightly, and Klaus knew that he had gotten a cuff of finger-shaped bruises around his arm even through the academy shirt, sweater, and blazer. But really, that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that all of his siblings were staring up at past-him and Reginald as he was berated, once again for disappointing his father. It looked like Reginald had been dragging him to his office, likely for a caning, before he had been overcome by his anger, enough so to stop and chide Past-Klaus right there in the hallway.

“Always such a disappointment, Number Four,” Reginald said, shaking him by the grip on his arm. Little-Klaus sneered at him.

“My  _ name,”  _ he said, “is  _ Klaus.”  _

Reginald’s face grew impossibly colder. He let go of Klaus’ arm.

" _ Number Four," _ he said. Around him, his siblings all straightened at his tone. "You  _ will  _ learn some  _ respect." _

Reginald grabbed him by the shoulders and  _ pushed. _

Little-Klaus tumbled, head over heels, down the stairs. He still remembered how the cool marble had felt as he had slammed into stair after stair.

With one last resounding  _ crack  _ of Klaus' skull against the floor, his body came to rest at the bottom of the stairs. His chest was still. Reginald looked at him for a long moment, before turning his back and walking away. He didn't look back once.

"Oh god," Vanya gasped, and Klaus could hear the sob in her voice. 

Klaus pointedly didn't look at anyone, eyes stuck on the  _ stillstillstill  _ version of his younger self.

"K-Klaus?" Diego asked, and Klaus clenched his fists. He didn't want to see the pity, didn't want to know that they thought he deserved this.

Little-Klaus gasped, choking on a breath. He sat up, breathing hard, and Klaus could see the crooked angle to his jaw.

Grace clacked into the room, her heels sharp against the waxed floor.

"Klaus, dear?" She seemed to catch sight of his jaw, and she walked over to him a little bit faster. "Oh, dear. Fall down the stairs, did we?" 

Little-Klaus hesitated for a moment, before nodding. Five cursed.

"Well," Grace said, gently tilting Little-Klaus' head this way and that. "There's some blood on the back of your head, but I'm not quite sure where it came from. Other than that, a few bumps and bruises, and a cracked jaw. You'll probably have to get it wired shut." Grace said pursing her lips.

Little-Klaus nodded, before wincing minutely.

The scene changed.

And  _ fuck,  _ if Klaus can’t catch a break. All these awful memories, just one after the other. Klaus is  _ sure  _ he has at least a few good memories sprinkled throughout his life-- hanging out with Diego, painting his nails with Allison, Five actually giving him the time of day  _ at least  _ once or twice, sleepovers in Ben’s room, reading with Ben, playing with Ben,  _ Ben-- _

Ben, covered in blood, just around the corner Little-Klaus had come from behind. He stands stock still, staring sightlessly out of his domino mask. Blood coats him from head to toe, matting his hair to his head.

“Hey, Ben,” Little-Klaus says softly, coming up beside his brother. As awful as it is, Klaus had seen this scene a thousand times before. Little-him doesn’t bother to check around himself, because he knows that the Horrors only leave when there is no one left to rip into. Ben looks at him slowly.

“Klaus,” he says, voice croaky.

Little-Klaus holds out his hand for Ben to grasp. Sure, he’ll get some blood on him, but for the comfort of his brother, Klaus is willing.

Ben’s hand goes through his. 

Little-Klaus’ head jerks up in horror.

“No. No,  _ no. NO!” _

The rest of the younger versions of Klaus’ siblings come around the corner at a run. Little-Luther, ever Number One, asks where Ben is.

Little-Klaus falls to his knees.

Little-Diego takes one look at Little-Klaus’ face and runs past Klaus into the main room of the museum. The rest of the young versions of their siblings trail after them, and Klaus hears Little-Allison say,  _ I Heard A Rumor that you’ll be ok. _ And Klaus hears Little-Diego stuttering over Ben’s name, grief thickening his tongue. And Klaus hears Luther’s heavy, pounding gate as he runs past Klaus, calling for their father. And Klaus hears Ben begin to cry softly.

They’re in an alleyway.

Little-Klaus is walking sloppily, leaning heavily against the wall, Ben trailing behind him. Klaus figures it’s been a few months since he died because he isn’t covered in blood. It had taken a lot of work to help Ben learn how to change his appearance.

Ben never went away when Klaus got high, so he’d had to actually learn how to change a ghost's appearance, or help them change their own, anyways. Lately, he had gotten into the habit of popping a few pills and just ignoring them altogether. That wasn’t an option for Ben.

Klaus finally stumbles up to a man lingering at the junction to the alleyway they're in and one a few feet to the left. 

“I need 2 baggies of your  _ finest  _ drugs,” Little-Klaus said, giggling. 

Klaus suddenly realized what this memory was, and he wished furiously to be out of this situation, out of here. He didn’t want to see this again-- he’d blocked the memory so thoroughly that he couldn’t have told you what had happened that night if he had tried. Except now, it was all rushing back. 

The dealer- god, Klaus didn’t even know his  _ name-  _ leers at him.

“That’ll cost you a pretty penny, doll.”

Little-Klaus pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, tossing it to the man. He catches it easily, then counts out the bills.

“Almost enough, sweetcheeks.”

“Almost? I don’t have anymore. Plus, that’s, like,  _ $300.” _

“It wouldn’t be hard,” the man stepped closer, sliding behind Little-Klaus and placing his hands on his shoulders. The man leans in too close. “Just… come here with me.”

“Klaus--” Ben starts, but Little-Klaus waves him off, turning around and leaning into the man’s grip. He’s high and reveling in this touch, given so softly and freely.

The man smirks and circles a hand around Little-Klaus’ waist, pulling him along around the corner. The view of the memory doesn’t shift to follow them, and neither does Klaus. He supposes that this is what repression of this memory translates to.

He swallows hard, and around the corner comes Klaus’ voice, crying out “ _ No!  _ Stop! I don't want to!”, and then a ringing clap of skin on skin that Klaus knows was a harsh slap to the face.

There is the quiet jingle of a belt buckle, and then a moment later the man moans, loud and long. Klaus falls into a crouch, wrapping his arms around his head and trying to block out the awful, sickening sounds of skin slapping against skin, fast and rhythmic. He hears the past version of himself start to cry, and he hears the man laugh, hears his rough voice calling him a slut.

With a last disgusting noise, Klaus hears a contented sigh, and then after a moment the sound of a zip, and again the jingle of a belt buckle. He hears a rustle, and then the sound of the man spitting. He laughs, and walks back around the corner at a leisurely saunter, the man calling out over his shoulder, “ _ Pleasure  _ doing business with ya, baby.”

The man walks past where present-Klaus is crouched on the ground, and after a long moment of sobbing, the younger version of himself comes stumbling around the corner, tear-stained, yanking up his skirt as he goes. In his hands are two baggies of pills, and he watches Little-Klaus dig out several pills with shaking fingers and swallow them dry. Little-him doesn’t look at Ben as he walks out of the alley, and his brother just follows after, a sad expression on his face.

Klaus ignores his siblings, avoiding their eyes as they try to catch his.

Little-Klaus is now sat on his bed. It's the same night, only hours later. In his hands, he holds the two baggies of pills. His gaze flickers between them, Ben in the corner, his blood-stained briefs on the ground, and Five’s domino mask, sitting on his nightstand. 

Finally, his gaze lingers on the baggies in his hand. He tears them both open, dumping the contents of both bags into one hand. Ben seems to come to attention.

“Klaus, what are you doing?” He asked, his voice becoming slightly alarmed. Little-Klaus smirks at him.

“They’re just drugs, Benny, lighten up.”

And then he pops the whole handful into his mouth. He chases it with a swig of vodka, and even Present-Klaus isn't sure where he got the bottle from.

“Klaus! Go get Mom, or Diego, or  _ anybody.  _ Now! Yell for someone. Klaus, please, I can’t help you.” Ben begs. Little-Klaus just flops back on his bed, the vodka bottle hanging precariously in his grip over the edge of the bed, giggling.

“None of them care any, Ben, it’s ok,” Little-Klaus says, sounding sure of himself.

“Klaus, you’ll  _ die!” _

“It’s never stuck before, why would it now? I just… need a break for a little bit. A restart.” Little-Klaus says, and Klaus hopes that his siblings miss the way he runs a finger over his wrist when he says it. With the way his luck is going, probably not.

The next moment, the room is much brighter, the sun having risen outside the window. Little-Klaus promptly leans over the edge of the bed and throws up right onto his bloody boxers. Ben is crying.

Klaus blinks, and they’re somewhere else. He’s noticeably older this time, with facial hair and eyeliner ringing his shadowed eyes. 

Klaus recognizes where they are, but can’t really place what this specific memory might be, considering the number of stints he’s done in rehab.

It is only when past-him settles sulkily into a circle with a group of other people that Klaus realizes what they’re about to see. 

Klaus, no matter how many times he goes to rehab, will never, ever go to group therapy. (Oh, they try to make him, sure, but you’d be surprised what people will let you do once you start throwing chairs.) He’ll go to the individual sessions, dump just enough of his daddy issues for the therapist to label him with one disorder or another, and then fuck off to the tv room; or Permanent Resident over in room #27 (listen, Klaus never claimed to be good with names.) who somehow has a steady supply of weed and is willing to share if you give good enough head; or even to the bathroom on the third floor with the window that only the skinniest and craziest of crackheads can or are willing to crawl out of, if he’s truly had enough of rehab.

But Klaus sees the sweaty, pained, determined look on the memory of his face, sees Ben’s proud smile as he peers over Klaus’ left shoulder as past-Klaus settles into the chair in the ring of people. He knows what this memory is.

Klaus and his family watch as the last person arrives, settles in the very last chair, and smiles at all of them.

“Good afternoon everyone!” she smiles, and after an awkward moment of silence, a few people mutter back vaguely. The woman smiles and then brandishes the book in her hand. He can feel Vanya stiffen in recognition.

“For today’s book club,” she says, far too cheerily, “we will continue with our reading of  _ Extra Ordinary,  _ which has just been  _ fascinating,  _ wouldn't you all say so? Alrighty, we’re on chapter four now, so let’s dive right--”

“Can I read?” past-Klaus reaches out a shaking hand towards the woman, and the light practically glows against his too-white skin.

“Now, book club doesn’t work like that, honey.”

“Listen- Janice, was it? Hi, Klaus Hargreeves, pleasure to meet you. You may better know me as Number Four, Or The Séance. My sister already published all my dirty laundry out for the world to see, at least do me the courtesy of letting me tell you what she’s already put out in the world.”

The woman- Janice- passes the book to Klaus without a word. Klaus takes it from her. He looks at the back of it, and smooths a thumb over Vanya’s picture, smiling ever so softly. Then, he cracks open the book and begins to read.

“Klaus was an eccentric boy. Number Four, The Séance, could see ghosts from a very young age. He also, from a very young age, did everything he could to get Father’s attention. Klaus would cry and scream all the time about the ghosts when we all knew he was just making it up. He always complained about individual training, too. He didn’t realize how lucky he was to hold  _ any  _ of Dad’s attention.

“But despite all this, Klaus was sweet and vulnerable when we were younger. Before they started going on missions, Klaus used to ask me to play with the rest of my siblings. It was nice, to be included. But as I grew older, grew more serious, Klaus only seemed more desperate for attention. He would talk incessantly, always bringing attention to himself. We used to say that the 8 weeks he spent with his jaw wired shut were the 8 most peaceful weeks of our lives.

“It was hard for all of us to watch Klaus spiral. He started drinking from a young age and Using not long after. He would spend his days mouthing off to dad, and his nights getting high. It was a vicious cycle, and nothing seemed to get through to him. Until that is, Ben died. Klaus and Ben were always close, which was kind of funny, considering how polar opposites they were. We all thought that Ben’s death might kick-start something in Klaus, make him realize he needed to start taking things more seriously. Instead, he kept claiming to see Ben’s ghost- his powers don’t work when he’s high, and he’s always high- and a few weeks later, he was gone.”

Past-Klaus closed the book. That wasn’t everything Vanya had had to say about him, but it was all he could bare to read. 

Klaus watched as his past self stood, setting the book on his seat, and walking away from the group. No one tried to stop him. The memory followed past-Klaus as he shut himself in the bathroom, before turning around and opening the window in the bathroom. It only opened about a foot, but Klaus had been living on the streets for years and taking drugs for longer. There was practically nothing to him. Ben didn’t say anything as he watched past-Klaus wiggle his way through the skinny space feet first. Once fully out of the window, he dropped onto the fire escape with a clang. Ben followed after, simply phasing through the wall.

“C’mon, Klaus, you’ve been sober for almost 2 weeks! I thought you were gonna try the sober thing for real this time?”

“I am, Benny-boo, don’t worry. But if I stay in that fucking nut-house a day longer, I won’t be.” 

“So, where are you going then?” Ben said, catching up to him as he jumped the last few feet to the ground over the side of the rail, landing on the packed snow there with a  _ crunch _ . Past-Klaus shrugged.

“I don’t have anywhere  _ to  _ go. Diego would probably let me stay with him, but he just started shacking up with that nice detective lady, and I don’t wanna ruin whatever he has going by being… well, me.”

Diego looked over at him.

“You wouldn’t have ruined anything, Klaus, when I said you were always welcome, I meant  _ always.”  _ Klaus just shrugged at him. He wasn’t sure how to say _ I ruin everything I touch and you looked really happy with her and I didn’t want to ruin that  _ in a way that didn’t sound so self-deprecating.  _ _

Past-Klaus saves him from having to formulate a response.

“Hello?” he says into the pay-phone. He pauses for a moment, before speaking again. “Oh, um, I’m Allison’s brother, Klaus Hargreeves? ...oh. Um, should I call again late-- oh, um, sure, ok. Yeah, ok I under--” he cuts off abruptly, and pulls the payphone away from his head, looking at it incredulously. Ben, from where he was leaning in close enough to hear, has an angry look on his face. 

“What did she say?”

“Didn’t even reach her. Her secretary is apparently under orders to not even take calls from me, because I’ll  _ just be looking for money.” _ Klaus shrugged. Ben cursed, and Klaus looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“I know you do drugs, but christ, she can’t spare you $30 for a seedy motel? Can't even be bothered to take a phone call from you?”

“To be fair, I definitely used all the money she has sent me in the past for drugs.”

“ _ That shouldn’t matter!”  _ Ben burst out, and Past-Klaus stared at him in surprise. “She’s your sister, she should be willing to  _ listen _ to you, at least.”

Past-Klaus just shrugged at him again.

“We never were very good at being a family, Ben.” He said quietly. Then, he shivered. “Let’s go see if I can charm my way into someone’s bed, eh?” 

The scene changed to the back of an ambulance, Past-Klaus sitting up and breathing heavily, his shirt cut down the middle. The weather hadn’t changed, and it couldn’t have been more than a week since the last scene.

“Sorry to see you again, Klaus.” The EMT said, packing away the paddles.

“Hey!” said Past-Klaus, indignant. “It’s been at  _ least _ a few months since you’ve seen me.” The EMT sighed.

“I don’t usually see people more than once, Klaus. You’re the only person I’m on a first-name basis with  _ and  _ treat regularly. That means I see you too much.”

“I think it’s impossible to see me too much,” Past-Klaus said, batting his eyelashes at him. The EMT snorted.

“All right, you know the drill, who we calling this time?” Past-Klaus hummed, tapping a thumb against his lips in thought, before turning and glancing at where Ben sat next to him on the gurney. His brother shrugged

"You could try Luther? Haven't had to call him in a couple of months, so he'll probably be more willing to lend you some money or come take you somewhere."

“Right you are, Benny-Boo, and if daddy-dearest is on a trip we just might be able to score a place to stay for a few days.” He turned back to the EMT. “Luther, if you please.” 

The EMT nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket before typing in the number Past-Klaus rattled off. He put the phone on speaker and held it between them.

“Hello?” came Luther’s gruff voice from the phone speaker.

“Hello, is this Luther Hargreeves?”

“Yes?”

“Hello, Mr. Hargreeves. My name is John Holt, I’m an EMT. Your brother Klaus has--”

“Oh, this is about Klaus? I thought I told him to already, but take me off his list of emergency contacts. Whatever messes he creates he can deal with himself. Goodbye.”

The call cuts off with a click, leaving John looking stunned and Klaus with a carefully blank expression. 

“Well!” Said Past-Klaus, hopping out of the ambulance on unsteady legs. “It was  _ wonderful  _ seeing you John, but I have oh-so-many places to be, and none of them are here!” Past-Klaus waved his  _ Goodbye  _ hand over his shoulder, and then took off at a run around the corner. John didn’t try and chase him. 

Luther, off to the side, looked incredibly uncomfortable but said nothing.

The scene changed. 

Past-Klaus sat in the closet, shaking and shivering, overcome with withdrawal and pain. Ben was over his shoulder, a steady presence as always.

“Work your hands away from the tape,” he was saying. “They’ve had it on you for over 10 hours, and between the sweating and the waterboarding it’s gotta have loosened enough for your skinny little wrists to get free.” Past-Klaus nodded, and they watched as he wriggled his right wrist, slowly managing to slip it from the duct tape on the chair.

Eventually, his hand came loose, and he immediately reached up and ripped off the tape on his mouth, before reaching over and undoing the tape on his left wrist.

“Fuck,” he said emphatically, shaking hands trying to massage the circulation back into his abused wrists. He tapped his feet and patted his thighs, attempting to get some circulation back before standing. As soon as the pins and needles passed, he stumbled to his feet, pushing out of the closet and into the room beyond. His blood stained the floor, and around him, the ghosts were  _ screaming.  _ He stumbled towards the door.

“No,” said Ben. Past-Klaus paused. “Don’t go out the door. We don’t know when they’ll be back. Take the vent.”

Past-Klaus stumbled over to the vent wordlessly. Collapsing in front of it and prying the cover off. There was a briefcase inside it, and without a second thought, Past-Klaus pushed it forward in front of him, wriggling his way through the vents.

Klaus and his siblings watched on as he came out on the backside of the motel, and stumbled his way to a bus stop a block away, shaking, shivering. Ben followed along faithfully, and the ghosts of the assassins trailed after the pair of them. 

Past-Klaus slipped bonelessly into the bus seat, propping the briefcase onto his lap. Ben sat next to him, watching Klaus with concern.

“Please be money, please be money,” He muttered, flipping the latches.

A blue light lit up his face, and--

They were in a tent crowded with men. Ben wasn’t there. People were shouting, and the ghosts were still screaming, but so were the bombs as they exploded, and--

There was a hand extended down to help him up, and Klaus choked, wrapping an arm around himself at the sudden pain in his chest. For the first time, he stepped closer to the memory, trying to get a better look at Dave’s face, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. No matter how he shifted, the vantage didn’t change. 

“Dave,” he wheezed out, a sob in his voice. Diego set a calming hand on his upper arm, and it took everything in Klaus not to burst into tears.

He watched in a hazy fog of heartbreak as he slipped into the uniform Dave gave him, following after as everyone moved from the tent and onto a truck with the rest of the 173rd, folding easily into them. 

They watched on as he shot and followed orders, saving lives and taking them in equal measure. They watched on as he gained the respect and companionship of the other men in the unit.

They watched on as he and Dave fell in love.

They watched on as Klaus screamed for a medic, pressing his hands against the flow of blood coming from Dave’s chest, watched as he slipped Dave’s dog tags over his neck, watched as he took hold of the briefcase and said  _ I don’t care anymore, anywhere but here, anywhere-- _

He was on a bus.

The same seat he had disappeared from before. He was alone this time. Past-Klaus shook with silent tears, clutching the briefcase to his chest. 

He disembarked the bus, and they watched as he smashed the briefcase against the bench, screaming. It burst into flames as he yelled.

And then they were sitting in the living room again, staring at each other in surprise. 

Klaus ripped off the headset, bending over double, clutching to his dog tags. They had barely even seen Dave, in his memories, just the barest flash of each of those moments in Vietnam, but Klaus’ chest  _ ached  _ at the thought of him. Ben was looking at them all in surprise, the cords leading from the machine to their headsets in his hand. He wasn’t tinged blue, so the others probably couldn’t see him, but with the extent Klaus’ powers were growing, he could often interact with objects despite this.

“What the hell was that?” He asked Klaus, once he had sat up again, wiping tears from his face. “I pulled the cords as soon as I could, what happened? Are you guys ok?”

“Went through my memories,” Klaus muttered, clutching at his dog tags. He cleared his throat. “I think I was putting on my headset at the same time Vanya’s shockwave hit the machine, and so we took a lovely lovely trip down memory lane. Literally.” Klaus giggled to himself a little hysterically.

“Jesus,” muttered Ben, coming to sit beside him. “You ok? Anyone say anything about the more… unsavory things?”

Klaus smiled at him.

“I appreciate the concern my dearest brother, but I would prefer to never talk about anything that just happened ever again, please and thank you.”

“Uh uh,” Diego said, scooting over to Klaus’ side (luckily not the one Ben was already on). “We can’t just watch all that and then not talk about it, Klaus. Some of that was really fucked up.”

“You don’t say,” Klaus said sarcastically. Diego winced.

“You know what I mean, asshole. But now that I know about it,” he turned a glare onto Allison and Luther, “I’m not letting them get away with the shit they pulled over the years.”

“Diego, it’s not a big--”

“If you say it’s not a big deal, Klaus, I will stab you. Your brother and sister  _ ignored you  _ when you came to th-them for help. It doesn’t matter if it was the 500th time you had c-come to them, they shouldn’t have done that. They shouldn’t have even  _ thought  _ of d-doing that to you.”

“Oh come on,” said Luther. “Are you really telling me that you came without hesitation every time the EMT’s or hospital called you?”

_ “Yes.”  _ said both Diego and Vanya in unison.

“Well, either way, you heard Klaus. Every time before that that I’d given him money he’d used it on drugs. How was I to know that this one time he would use it for something else?”

“Because even if he was using it for drugs, then at least he wasn’t having to sell his body to get them,” said Vanya, fire in her voice. Klaus winced, looking down at his hands in his lap, but Diego’s fingers reached over and threaded through his, distracting him. 

“He seemed pretty happy to do it,” Luther said viciously, crossing his large arms over his chest. “I mean, he was what, 15? And he was already trading himself for drugs.”

Klaus recoiled at that, memories springing unbidden into his mind of burning, ripping pain, and the humiliation of being frozen in terror, unable to do anything as that man, as that man--

As the man had raped him. 

A tear slides down Klaus’ face, and he wraps a hand tightly over his mouth, stifling a sob.

There’s a flash of blue, and then Five is across the room, driving his fist into Luther’s big, dumb face. 

“Shut your fucking mouth, you asshole!”

“You better watch your fucking tongue, Luther, or--”

“Oh, fuck off, Luther.”

“What the hell, Luther!”

The cries ring out from his siblings- Five, Diego, Ben, and Vanya- as Luther is knocked over with the force of Five’s warp-propelled hit. He stands over him, shaking out his fist, as Allison crawls over to Luther to check on him.

“Get out.” It’s Vanya this time, and she’s standing, both arms crossed over her chest. Her face is heavy with anger, in a way Klaus doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

“V, we need to talk about this--”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you care. You just want to look like the perfect, loving sister, Allison, but you can’t be bothered to care for your brother even when he comes to you for help. Now,  _ get out of my sight.”  _ The air reverberates with her words, but it still looks for a moment like Allison is going to argue.

Instead, she and Luther leave, somewhat reluctantly, shooting looks over their shoulders as if one of them will cave and come to their defense. No one does.

The door closes softly behind them, and Vanya slumps a little.

“I hate yelling at them.” She admits.

“You didn’t have to--” Klaus starts, but Vanya turns a sharp look on him, before coming to kneel in front of him, grabbing his other hand. 

“Of course I did. You’re my brother, Klaus. I know I’ve done some horrible things to you in the past, and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” She says, and Klaus smiles at her.

“Of course, Van. You’re my sister, and I love you. Everything you said in that book was true, even if it hurt to read. But you were hurting more than any of us, reeling from a childhood of us ignoring you and excluding you.”

“But that’s the thing, so were you!” Vanya exclaims. “Everyone in this family belittled you and treated you like, like less, when you’re just as valuable as the rest of us. Father was harder on you than any of us, and not a single one of us saw it.”

“And despite all that, you still loved all of us. You looked for me, Klaus. Got sober enough to use your powers for me, even though you're scared of them, even though I treated you awfully.”

“And I know all those knick-knacks and fancy knives that would show up out of nowhere were from you, Klaus,” Diego said, squeezing his hand. Vanya gasped.   
  


“I got those too! Little violin figurines, or music books. I  _ knew  _ it was you!”

Klaus blushed.

“Was I that obvious? I just… wanted to give something back for all the times you guys paid for my rehab or let me stay a few nights, or even gave me some cash, despite knowing that I was gonna use it to get high.”

“We should’ve done more,” Diego said, frowning. Klaus waved a hand at him.

“I wouldn’t have accepted any real help. I didn’t want to be sober, didn’t want to do anything other than get high again and again.”

“Well, I wasn’t before, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re my brother, Klaus and I… I love you.”

Five says it so matter of factly that Klaus mentally falters for a moment. Five, his most reclusive and feelings averse brother, so easily telling him he loves him. Klaus does what he does best, and deflects with humor.

“Aw, Fivey, you do care!”

“Shut up!”

“Ow! Ow! Ok, ok, Uncle, Uncle, Jeezus you little gremlin!”

After they settle, Klaus rubs at the back of his neck.

“I know we have to talk about it but, can we please wait for just a little but? All of it’s a little… fresh.” He winces a little, waiting for them to demand he tells them now anyways. No one does.

“Of course, Klaus. Let’s go make some hot chocolate for now, yeah? We can see how you feel after.” Vanya says, squeezing his hand and standing back up. He smiles brilliantly up at his sister.

“Oh! Can we make brownies? I stole-- er,  _ borrowed  _ the most  _ wonderful  _ recipe from this guy I stayed with, and they’re to die for!”

Diego smiles fondly at him.

“Whatever you want, little bro. I think this temple could do with an offering.”

Klaus laughs, spinning in a circle and clapping his hands.

“Brownies, brownies, brownies!” He begins to chant, leading the procession to the kitchen. His siblings follow after, amused.

Klaus’ chest is warm with love for his siblings, and he feels giddy with the knowledge that it’s returned tenfold.

Really, this whole memory business may be worth it, just for that.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, I have 3 other tua fics! I think they're pretty good. let me know please if I missed any warnings in the tags! I'm delirious as I post this lmao. anyways, I have another tua fic in the works that promises to be very good, if I do say so myself. be on the lookout for that.
> 
> comments, kudos? please? I reply to all comments, they make my week. and college sucks, so I really need something good rn.


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